Summons of the Spirits
by chirp chirp
Summary: 3 parts; stories dealing with America's relationship with his native inhabitants and their spirit folk. USxUK in the second chapter
1. Chapter 1: Everywhere and Nowhere

_**Chapter 1: Everywhere and Nowhere**_

Late September saw Boston Harbor grey and cold, a light drizzle dampening the wooden docks and cobbled streets. However, the sandy-haired man on the deck of an incoming ship was unaffected by the dreary weather. Green eyes were locked on the approaching shore as thick brows knotted anxiously.

'_You're worried about him, ' _the small faerie stated, her gentle lilting voice just barely audible over the crash of the sea. It wasn't a question. The tiny winged creature looked up her companion: his hair and clothes soaked from the rain, yet his eyes were fixed on the shore and his mouth was set in a grim line daring anyone to try and remove him from his post. He inclined his head slightly, as if to answer her declaration, but his eyes never wavered, always staring at the approaching land.

The ship wasn't even fully docked when the agile young man leapt onto the shore, the pixie fluttering beside him. He landed lightly on the wooden platform and straightened his cloak. The figure adopted a quick stride, disappearing into the grey mist of the New World.

--

Susan Harold was a maid at the Governor's Mansion in the colony of Virginia. As she padded quietly down one of the many graceful, curving staircases, her hazel eyes were drawn to a large draped window. Past her reflection in the glass she could see the darkened sky gently misted with tiny pinpricks of light that surrounded the luminous moon, which was maybe a week away from full. A loud pounding at the main door both jolted her out of her reverie and nearly caused her to fall the rest of the way down the stairs. After regaining her balance, Susan ran quickly to the door, her mind quickly trying to formulate what would drive someone to the Governor's Mansion this late in such a panic.

She opened the door to reveal a short young man in a ragged cloak. He pulled back his hood revealing startlingly green eyes and straw-coloured hair. "Tell the Governor" the man commanded, "that Arthur Kirkland is here."

--

The British Empire, known to some as Arthur Kirkland, sipped quietly at a cup of tea while seated on comfortable armchair across from the Governor of Virginia.

"I presume by your presence you received my message," the Governor stated, peering over the rims of his spectacles at England.

"Yes, where is the boy now?" Arthur queried, working hard to keep the panic out of his voice and the fear from his face. He could not show weakness.

"The boy is in his room, asleep at the moment. He will be very glad to see you," the old man said, his lips curving upward into a smile at the last few words. England grunted acknowledgement.

After England had settled into one of the guest rooms, he took out the short note that had sent him running to his young colony.

_Dear England, _

_I recommend you come back to your colony immediately. America is not doing so well right now. Physically the boy is fine; but he hallucinates about voices calling him deep into the woods. We don't know what to do, please make haste before he slips away and disappears into the forest… _

Arthur crammed the note back into his pocket, a scowl on his face. He knew what was happening.

The spirits were calling.

--

Arthur awoke the next morning just as the first light of dawn began to colour the sky. He slipped from his bed and got dressed. "Cowslip?" Arthur called softly. A second later he smiled as the faerie appeared at his side. Her pale blonde hair was sticking out is some rather peculiar directions and her delicate yellow wings were covered with dew. "Stayed out last night in the garden," the faerie yawned, "It's was nice to be with flowers again after such long time on a boat." England handed the small pixie his handkerchief so she could dry herself. "Cowslip," he started as she began toweling off, "do you know wher-"

"Third door to your right," the faerie said with a smile, cutting him off.

"Thank you," Arthur bowed to the tiny creature. She nodded in return, and he walked down the hall to the room she had designated as his colony's.

He knocked at the door saying, "Alfred, it's time to get up."

England then heard something that sounded suspiciously like his colony falling out of bed and scrambling as fast as he could towards the door. However, he was still slightly surprised when the door was wrenched open and a small flying object crashed into him, knocking him over. England blinked several times after he hit the ground. Trying to orient himself he sat up, rubbing his hand on the back of his head muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Bloody wanker." It was then that England noticed he was being squeezed quite fiercely by the small child attached to his abdomen.

"England!! You're here! I missed you so much!!" was what Arthur assumed Alfred was saying, because the boy had his face buried in Arthur's chest, which made him very difficult to understand.

"Yes, I'm back," Arthur responded, smiling gently, ruffling Arthur's hair.

The Governor of Virginia smiled as he watched the pair interact. England, so prim and proper… downright stoic really, had just been tackled to the ground by a tiny child. At first the Governor had worried the elder nation might forcefully rebuke the child for his actions. But no, the Empire of Great Britain lay on the floor with a smile on his face, ruffling the boy's hair and laughing with him. The Governor smiled as he quietly walked away; there was no need to worry.

The pair remained on the floor for a few minutes, enjoying each other's presence. England didn't know why, but the child always made him feel calm and happy.

However, he was beginning to feel rather sore in this position, so he scooped the small child up into his arms. Alfred clung tightly around his neck as they descended the stairs. The pair of nations exited the mansion and proceed to wander around Williamsburg. The sky was a pure cerulean blue, the air slightly nippy but not nearly as cold as London was this time of year. The trees scattered around the city were only starting to shed their green leaves in favor of warmer hues. Arthur followed dutifully after his young charge as the boy raced down the street, wanting to introduce him to all the vendors and shop owners he had become friends with.

England was polite and very apologetic to the shopkeepers Alfred barged in on, interrupting their business so he could introduce them to his "big brother, Arthur."

The day seemed to fly by, and before they knew it, sunset was falling. Arthur looked up at the sky, admiring the vivid hues, but was snapped out of his reverie by the sudden clutching of his leg. Glancing down, England saw the boy's face was white as a sheet, his bright eyes were wide, the pupils contracted.

"Alfred, what's wrong?" England said worriedly, kneeling down next to his young companion.

"They're callin' again," the boy whispered, "I thought they would go away now that you're here, but they're still callin'…"

Arthur picked the boy up and walked back to the Governor's Mansion in great haste. Along the way, he questioned Alfred a bit, but soon gave up as all the boy would say was "They're callin'…"

England stepped into the Governor's study again, Alfred still in his arms. "Governor, I need you to answer a few questions."

The man nodded, closing the book he was reading and riveting his gaze on the nation before him.

"The voices started calling how long ago?"

"Several months ago… July I think. We sent you a letter a swiftly as we could, but you know how slow post is."

"So it started around the time of the Summer Solstice."

"Well… I guess that would be correct," the man said, nodding slightly.

"And it wanes and waxes with the moon, yes?"

"How did you know that?" The Governor replied, surprise etched on his face. "Yes, which was why I was glad you arrived when you did, the full moon is close."

Arthur nodded, his deep green eyes narrowed pensively. Finally he turned to the Governor.

"Tomorrow evening we shall depart for the forest, please have your servants make a pack of food and essentials for us please, we will be gone for several days."

"Do you need a horse?"

"No, we can hitch a ride to the forest with relative ease; the realm of spirits is not a wise place for your horses to be, I'm afraid," England said with a slight smile.

The Governor's eyes widened considerably, "Realm of Spirits?"

"Every country has indigenous spirits," England said lightly, "and if the country's people believe in them, they will reveal themselves to that country."

"But America has no 'spirits'," the Governor said reasonably, "There are a few scattered incidents of ghosts and witches, but there are no great courts of faeries like Great Britain."

England smiled, his eyes darkening, "Well of course America wouldn't have British Faerie Courts. I said 'indigenous' spirits."

The governor looked at the great empire, not understanding.

"We English have recently come to this land of promise, but there were those who came before us."

"You mean… the savages?" the Governor asked quietly.

"Please don't be so needlessly rude and crass," England snapped, "they are as much a part of America as you, if not more so."

The Governor looked surprised at this pronouncement, England snorted.

"Really, you people have no idea how nations work, do you? Well let me explain it this way. I found this little colony," he gestured with his head towards the boy cradled in his arms, "in a forest near Jamestown. Until the rise of King Arthur, I too hid in the dark forests of England. Every nation begins like that, perhaps along a strong river, or seashore. Yet we hide until a unifying force comes, as we are very weak. America probably formed when the natives first started forming nations, like the Cherokee. However, their ties were too weak to hold him together, they could not truly unify him. The natives are all distinctly different, and their tribes were very scattered, thus leaving him fractured. This is why he only remembers the time spent as my colony. However, his tie to the natives still remains, not as strong as it once was, but still present. And these… Native Americans, if you will, have a distinct culture of their own, as well as their own mythology. It is time for him to meet the spirits native of this land."

The Governor nodded, but still looked nervous, "But why are you setting out at night, spirits are not the only things you will find in the forests."

England smiled, shaking his head, "Governor, if he can only hear the voices at night, it would be silly to travel by day. We would be without any guide at all."

The Governor sighed and nodded, doing as he was bidden, but he also asked a maid to stay close to England and fetch anything the man though would aid his trip. Arthur sighed at this, but eventually understood the man's meaning. The maid helped him gather a broadsword (in case of non spirit activity), a compass, a hunting knife, a pot, some flint, a lantern, and a blanket. Arthur saw no reason to bring a gun, he could easily defeat any attacking creature with a sword, be they animal or human, and guns were unreliable and bulky. They were good when it didn't matter if your aim was off, like in a war, where it didn't matter if you hit the person you were aiming for, or the person next to them. But one on one, accuracy was vital.

--

It was almost time for them to depart; the sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky.

Arthur put the food and most the supplies into a pack strapped to his back, but he put the compass and flint into a special pouch secured to his belt. Next, the knife was strategically placed at the small of his back, tucked securely into his belt and hidden by his cloak. Lastly, he strapped the sword at his hip, like he had when he served as a privateer for her majesty.

Alfred skipped into the room but stopped dead at the sight of Arthur. Arthur, wearing a simple white shirt and green vest, a dark, slightly tattered cloak positioned on his shoulders, and one pale hand delicately resting on the hilt of a large broadsword hanging from his waste by several thick leather straps England turned to the boy, surprised slightly by the silence.

"Wow…. You look so… COOL!" Alfred squealed, launching himself at England, who caught the boy mid jump and hoisted him into his arms. "You look like a hero!! Or a wandering knight! Or something like that!" the boy exclaimed squeezing Arthur's neck.

"Now now," Arthur said with a chuckle. He slightly regretted that he used old tales of his deeds as a knight and a privateer as Alfred's bedtime stories, the boy had developed a very strong obsession with heroes, and Arthur was relatively certain the stories were to blame. But it had been so fun to watch Alfred cheer at the sound defeats of France. "Alfred, we will be leaving in an hour's time, get your cloak on, it will be cold in the forest."

Alfred nodded and ran off; leaving England to finish his preparations. "Hey," called a light voice from the window sill, "are you sure this is a good idea?"

England glanced a Cowslip, "Whether it is a good idea or not, it must be done."

The faerie nodded, but her golden eyes still looked at him with concern, "You don't know anything about these spirits."

"I knew nothing about the Realm of Faerie when I first blundered into it," he replied.

"Yes, and you were very nearly trapped there," she reminded him.

"I know. However, when the spirits call it is impossible to resist for long, and I would rather Alfred walk into danger with me, than run into danger headlong with no one."

Cowslip smile sadly, "You know that I will not be able to travel with you in there, to help if you should need it?"

"I know." Determined green eyes met soft golden ones. The faerie bowed her head to him, and he reciprocated the motion.

"I will wait here for you to return for a fortnight, " the tiny creature replied at last. If you have not returned by then… I shall leave this strange shore without you. So make haste, my dear England, and do what you must."

--

The pair had been walking for several days now. It appeared that once they entered the forest, Alfred could hear the voice beckoning him on both day and night. So in response they traveled constantly, taking only short breaks for food and brief sleep. They had made it into the Appalachian Mountains and were heading south, Arthur watching as his young colony followed the voices of spirits that were guiding them. At long last Alfred came to a dead stop.

"Arthur" the child's voice trembled slightly as he addressed the elder nation, "they want me to go through there."

England glanced in the direction Alfred was pointing. It was startlingly wide dirt path that ran through the trees. However the trees were so close and tall that their leaves completely blocked out the sun.

"Alfred," England said quietly, placing his hand on his colony's head, "I'm right here."

America nodded mutely, clinging to England as they walked into the dark woods.

As soon as they stepped onto the path, Arthur felt a ripple, almost like nearly imperceptible shift in the motions of the trees and shadows.

It reminded him of the ancient forests of Britain back in the time of Merlin; the trees whispered to each other then. The old birch ('The One with White Hands' as it was once known), the Alder tree and Willow, even the Elder tree were very much like the faeries themselves. These trees were the same. He guessed they hadn't had visitors in a long time, which was why they chattered so excitedly.

"Arthur?" England looked down at his young companion "Are the trees here… talking?" The boy looked nervous, as though worried Arthur would get annoyed at such a strange question. Instead, he smiled. "I'm glad you noticed, Alfred. These trees are rather chatty today." The trees seemed to halt their conversations in surprise. Tentatively, an oak tree whispered: "_You can here us?"_

"Of course we can bloody hear you, do you have any idea how big a racket you lot were making?" England huffed at the trees, but the slight smile that tugged at his face softened the impact of his harsh words.

The trees around them began snickering, leaves fluttering and shifting.

-

"It's been a long time since I had a conversation with a tree" Arthur told Alfred as they walked on. "The trees in England are so few now, and the ancient ones I use to be friends with don't talk much, I think the loss of their brethren has affected them deeply. What few forests remain are silent… it's sad."

"I guess I'll need to protect my forests then," America said with a smile.

"Yes, you will," England replied.

Suddenly England heard a sound. A crash like thunder echoed throughout the forest. Around them the trees bent, twisting their branches and the ground trembled. Alfred was gripping Arthur's pant leg, Large blue eyes stared tearfully at thee gap that the trees were opening to their left. The elder's hand gently settled on the top of his ward's head. England peered into the gloom , only to find to brilliant eyes looking right back at him. England gulped, fear chilling his bones as he looked at the gigantic form of a snake. It was of mammoth proportions, its scales colored with a pattern of reds and golds that flashed like fire. Upon the brow of the nightmarish creature was a diamond. On either side of the large stone were great ivory horns, larger than the tusks of elephants he had seen in Africa.

The giant horned serpent hissed, pausing at the tree line of the path and leveled its large golden eyes at the pair on the dirt road.

"Arthur," Alfred said, fear saturating his voice, "What was that noise?! I can feel something weird! Arthur, what do you see?!"

"It's nothing, don't worry Alfred I'm right here." England knelt down, placing his arms in a protective embrace around the boy trembling with fright. Arthur knew he had to calm Alfred down somehow. He didn't know how he would deal with the giant spirit creature before him, but his experience with dragons from the old days said that as long as they didn't panic, they had a chance of escaping alive. So Arthur did the first thing that popped into his mind: he sang.

"_Janet has kilted her green kirtle_

_A little aboon her knee,_

_And she has snooded her yellow hair,_

_A little aboon her bree,_

_And she is to her father's ha,_

_As fast as she can hie." _

He could feel the boy relaxing in his grip as the ancient, silly tune filled the air. However, much to Arthur's surprise, the child wasn't the only one who calmed. The giant horned snake swayed slightly to the music, its luminous amber eyes glinting softly.

"_Four and twenty ladies fair_

_Were playing at the ba,_

_And out then cam the fair Janet_

_Ance the flower amang them a' _"

Alfred giggled, adding his light soprano to his elder's gentle tenor.

"_Four and twenty ladies fair_

_Were playing at the chess_

_And out then cam the fair Janet,_

_As green as onie glass."_

As the song concluded, the great horned snake slithered, streaking past them; it's great sinewy form brushing lightly against the pair, the wind from its swift exit blowing their cloaks and hair.

Arthur just held the small colony close to him and chuckled lightly at their strange escape. He knew the leprechauns back home loved music, but he didn't know that giant American spirit snakes enjoyed it as well. Alfred, picking up on the lightened mood began giggling as well, his eyes sparkling.

"The ghost is gone now?"

"Yes Alfred" England replied, tousling the boy's hair, "The ghost is gone, let's get moving."

_-_

After continuing down the path for a little while more, they reached a clearing. Above them, the full moon shown, her soft rays illuminating the area.

In the center of the clearing was a pool of water, but the gentle breeze that rippled through the grasses held no sway over the water's surface, leaving the pool smooth as glass.

As they stepped off the path onto the grass, shadowy silhouettes began to emerge from the water.

England tried evaluating the situation. American spirits seemed so far to be of a less tricky nature than the spirits he was use to, but that did not make them any less dangerous, just more straight forward.

"Are you the ones who called me here?" came a small voice from his side.

Like Alfred.

"_Can you see us?_" Called one of the shadowy figures.

"No," replied the child serenely, "but I can hear you."

The spirits began murmuring amongst themselves. Eventually another spirit spoke, "_If you can not see, how did you evade Uketna, the guard of this place?"_

England disliked the idea of revealing such information to the spirits, as he remembered all to well what faerie were capable of once they understood how you knew their tricks. But these… weren't faerie. He could sense no diabolical intentions, just plain curiosity.

"I can see you," England stated quietly. The truth, but not the whole truth was his compromise in this situation. One of the forms chuckled. "_That one does not trust us._"

"It is not in my nature," England said lightly, "to blindly trust spirits. It is thanks to that quirk I am still alive."

More hushed whispering from the shadows. They seemed to come to a consensus.

"_We are the Nûñnë'hï, immortal spirits that guard the Cherokee_."

"I'm America, and this is my big brother, England!" Alfred called, smiling broadly, before England even considered giving their names in return.

One of the beings looked infuriated at this news, "_An invader was brought here?! Upon these sacred grounds?!_"

At this shout England shoved the boy behind him, grasping the hilt of his sword in case the spirit attacked.

"_Calm yourself!_" barked another voice. England glanced around to see the owner of the voice, his eyes eventually falling on a young Indian woman holding a basket of corn. She was wearing a traditional garment; her long raven hair was tied in a loose braid that ended near her knees.

"_I am Selu,_" she said quietly, "_I believe we have met before._"

England bowed slightly towards her "I thank you for assisting my people in those early days."

America peered cautiously at the woman from behind England's cloak

"Are you the Corn Lady?"

"Alfred, be polite," Arthur scolded.

"_I am,_" she said, smiling slightly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" Alfred said, waving at her, his face covered in a large smile.

The shadow spirits shifted slightly, obviously not having expected her arrival.

"_The Great Spirit,_" she said, smiling lightly, "_wishes to welcome you as a part of the land._"

"Well, where is he?" asked Alfred uncertainly.

"_Everywhere and nowhere._"

"Huh?" Alfred looked confused, so England knelt down, so he could explain.

"Remember me telling you about the two groups that keep fighting with each other in England?" Arthur asked, looking at Alfred's face carefully.

"Yes: the Protestants and the Catholics, right?"

"Correct. Well, they both believe in an omnipotent being. An omnipresent entity that controls everything."

"An omni- wha?"

"It means this… being… consciousness… is everywhere, controlling everything. But at the same time, he's not a part of it. "

"So he's everywhere… but no where at the same time?"

"Yes. And the Native Americans (he liked that term better than 'savages') have a similar belief."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense…"

"_It is good that you understand,_" Selu remarked lightly.

"But then, who has been calling me? And why?"

"_You were called by all of us,_" Selu laughed stretching out her arms. The trees around shimmered, their leaves and boughs dancing in a non-existent wind.

The Nûñnë'hï were nodding, their aura considerably lighter than before, the shadows in the clearing seemed to sway and even the moon appeared alive as it gave light to the proceedings.

Arthur heard rumble of thunder and turned to see the giant serpent had also made an appearance. Arthur blushed profusely as he heard the snake whisper in his mind "_You sing very well~_"

"Thank you" he muttered, not looking at the creature, but he could hear it chuckle in his mind.

"_We wished to meet the young country that we share with you,_" Selu announced with sparkling eyes. "_After all, the Spirit of the Land unites all of who tread upon it._"

Alfred smiled widely and hugged her. He couldn't see all the spirits around him, but he could here them all clearly, and he could feel their presence. So what if he didn't know what they looked like? They were his spirits.

Arthur smiled as he watched his little colony dance with the spirits. And in the back of his mind he wondered, how would the colonists deal with the fact Alfred belonged as much to the so-called "savages" as he belonged to them.

--

_**Please review!!**_

Spirits Index:

Yowa: Also known as The Great Spirit, rather similar to the Hebrew concept of Yahweh.

Great Horned Serpent: Also known as Uketna to the Cherokee. Legends of a Great Horned Serpent appear in many tribes, this particular specimen takes after the Cherokee tribe's mythology. I made up the stuff about music; most of the legends around the Uketna say seeing this spirit means you are dead. Attributes include toxic breath, noises like thunder, a blazing diamond upon the forehead called Ulun'suti, and can become invisible. The horned snake in this particular story does may or may not spout toxic gases, because I'm not sure if such a thing would really hurt a nation.

Nûñnë'hï: Spirit People, said to have saved several Cherokee tribes, both by inviting them to live with the Nûñnë'hï and by fighting valiantly against invading tribes.

Selu: (Maize), the Corn Woman

(I used Cherokee spirits for several reasons. A) They lived relatively close to where Arthur and Alfred were, B) I mean this as no insult to anyone else reading this, but the Cherokee were one of the most advanced tribes, which ties greatly to my final reason: C) for reasons relating to the next chapter that I do not wish to disclose this information at the moment. )

Author's Notes: I've decided that Alfred can hear spirits (because of the Native Americans), but his country as whole isn't connected enough to the spirit world for him to actually see them like Arthur.

On another note: England sang the first three verses of Tam Lin, an old English/Scottish ballad. There are thirty five verses total, but I didn't want anyone to die of boredom.

By the way, did y'all enjoy my veiled reference to Teddy Roosevelt and the National Park (and Forest) System? One of the main reasons Great Britain needed colonies was that it was depleting its own very limited natural resources so it seemed like a good thing to bring up.

There will be at least one more chapter to this. Unfortunately it will be much darker than this. After all, America has some things in its history that we try, but must never forget. I'll give you a big hint: Andrew Jackson.


	2. Chapter 2: Nunna daul Isunyi

_**Chapter 2: Nunna daul Isunyi**_

_**1762:**_

_Arthur was surprised when his brother pulled him to the side, asking Alfred to give them a moment. The boy did, grabbing the plates and moving to the kitchen. It was unusual for England to keep company with any of his older siblings, especially that of the permanently drunk Scotsman. _

"_Y'know Arthur, that boy is very much like ye."_

_The corners of Arthur's mouth twitched slightly._

"_Strong-willed, stubborn, …independent. Maybe it would be better if 'he weren't so much like ye," Robert sighed, looking at his brother sadly, "Be careful Arthur, he'll break yer heart."_

_**1783: **_

Arthur watched the golden liquid swirl in the glass, lost in thought.

"_Careful Arthur, he'll break yer heart._"

England drank deeply. The bloody skirt-wearing drunk was right.

_**1938: **_

England sat at his desk, sighing as he leafed through piles of paperwork. So much to do, so little time. Rain pattered relentlessly against the windowpanes, the outside world a murky, colorless grey. Sometimes Arthur really detested his own land… detested the rain that incessantly plagued this small rock. He had too many painful memories attached to the pounding of water on a landscape robbed of its vivid hues. The memories inundated his battered mind, the wounds they salted still festered, fresh and raw. And yet, he couldn't really dredge up his earliest emotions towards the rebelling colony. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur had seen the war coming. Alfred needed some space to create a place for himself in the world. And that place was not at England's side as a colony. Maybe in the future Alfred would return to his side, but never as his colony.

The old empire leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to feel the years. Arthur looked at his long empty tea cup and wondered if he should brew another pot… and then it struck him. The tea cup was rattling against the saucer. In fact, most of the unsecured objects in the room were rattling. It was as if some giant creature was shaking the very ground itself. From outside he heard the boom of thunder; then a tapping at the window. He opened the large glass doors to find himself eye to eye with an enormous reptilian head he last saw several centuries ago. Its golden eyes sparkled in recognition, fork tongue darting out and flicking the old nation lightly in greeting.

"Hello Uketna."

The snake hissed softly, staring warmly at England.

_He needs you._

Did Arthur have to know anything else?

The empire grabbed his traveling cloak and was about to walk out the door when the snake spoke again.

_I swim faster than your big canoes._

It was strange hearing the reptile's voice echoing inside his head, but there were more pressing things to ponder now.

"You want me to… ride you?" Arthur asked, both surprised and suspicious. Spirit creatures rarely offered themselves as 'servants' to humans. Unless they had the intention of mischief, like phooka.

_He needs you now, not in a month's time. However there is a fee…._

Here was the catch; spirits never gave favors, there was always something…

_You must sing every verse of The Ballad of Tam Lin to me. _

England could practically hear the smirk in the snake's voice. He ran a hand tiredly through his hair.

"Deal."

--

"John Marshal made his decision; now let him enforce it!" barked Jackson.

"That's not how it works and you know it!" Alfred snapped right back. "Three equal branches of government, remember?! You can't just ignore the Supreme Court!!"

"Watch me, you Cherokee loving coward!" the President hissed.

"I don't care what you call me, Jackson, but you can't do this! You said yourself any removal had to be voluntary! Paying some miscellaneous Cherokee not recognized by any of the tribes to sign a piece of paper does not count as voluntary!!"

"I didn't pay him!"

"But you still can't hold the Cherokee Nation to that! He was still unauthorized and unrecognized!None of there elected officials have ever agreed to anything like this!"

"I can and I will! The common people need that land, I'm hardly going to begrudge them the opportunity."

"By kicking the land's rightful owners out? How can you feel so justified?"

"They aren't my people, that's how I feel justified! They're savages! They shouldn't even count as people!" Jackson snarled, his face distorting in rage.

"_**Well they're mine, jackass!**_" Alfred shouted, his bright blue eyes on fire, "They are just as much a part of me as your fuckin' hics!!"

Jackson's eyes burned like hellfire; he raised his hand to slap Alfred.

"_**OI!!**_** Smacking that git's my job, you bloody wanker!!**"

Alfred whipped around at the sound of that voice. There was only one person in the world he knew who spoke like that; but it couldn't possibly be…. "Arthur?"

Climbing through the window, his clothes drenched and his hair plastered to his forehead; the Briton looked at him, a small smirk on his face.

"Ello, hope I'm interrupting something important; 'fraid I'm not in a terribly good mood right now."

"And who are you, sir?" Jackson barked, his glare falling on England.

"You may call me Arthur Kirkland," Arthur said, his bright green eyes sparkling dangerously, "Though I am known to some as-"

"Arthur! What are you doing here?! Sorry Jackson, sir, could you give us a minute? Old pals and all that. Bye!!" America all but shouted quickly before the Briton could finish his sentence. If there was anything in the world his boss hated more than the British, it would have to be the personification of Britain. And Alfred really didn't want another war. So he opted for grabbing his President and shoving him none to gently out of the room slamming the door behind his boss and bracing his back against it in case the volatile man tried to break down the door. However, Jackson only swore loudly before stopping off to his own office.

"Issues with your new boss?" Arthur asked, tossing his cloak on a small table.

Alfred laughed lightly, "Something like that, but what are you doing here?"

"Well you should know," England grouched, "After all, Uketna showed up on my doorstop saying you need my help. What's going on?"

"Really? Uketna? How did you get over here? Ship?"

"Actually, that giant serpent of yours gave me a lift. Got me across the Atlantic Ocean in one night if you can believe that."

"Seriously? Man, how fast were you goin'?"

"No idea; but as price of the roundtrip, I have to sing all 35 verses of Tam Lin."

America laughed at the way Arthur's nose crinkled and his eyebrows scrunched at this particular thought.

"Didn't you sing that when we went to the spirit's forest all those centuries ago?"

"Yes, I sang the first three verses to calm you down when that giant thing appeared. He must still remember it. Ah, but I digress. Why did you send a massive snake to fetch me from my island? You're not my colony anymore, I probably shouldn't have come…" America could hear the trace of bitterness that laced England's words.

"Well… I didn't send him, actually. Did he say I did?"

"Hmm… No, he just said '_He needs you.'_"

"Ah…" America and England sat in silence for a few seconds before the elder spoke.

"What were you arguing about with Jackson when I first came in?"

"… The Cherokee. Jackson wants all the Indians rounded up and marched out West to be left in some worthless shit hole… And there's nothing I can do to stop him."

England looked up surprised. Even during their various wars he had never heard the boy sound so… bitter. America flopped gracelessly into a chair, his fingers beginning to massage his temples.

"Walk with them."

America looked up, his blue eyes wide. "Huh?"

"When Jackson gives the order, walk with your people. Show them you're there, that part of you is still belongs to them. Even the President can't stop you walking," Arthur stated, his emerald eyes dancing in the candlelight.

"Awesome!" Alfred cried jumping up and hugging England, the smallers feet leaving the ground as America spun him around. "What the bloody-Put me down, you gigantic prat!"

Alfred relented and set the green eyed man down, a gigantic grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, you wanna come with me?"

Arthur snorted derisively, one large eyebrow arching cynically, "No. I am Britain, the Cherokee have nothing to do with me. They are your people, not mine. You're _'independent' _now, remember? You can go without me holding your bloody hand."

Alfred laughed, his eyes sparkling, one hand absently scratching the back of his head. "'Kay. Thanks, Iggy."

And much to England's utter surprise, his former colony leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. "See ya!"

Alfred managed to run out the room and down the hall before he heard the livid and furiously blushing Briton yell, "**YOU BLOODY WANKER!!**"

Arthur seethed in the office for a few seconds before he collected himself and the redness faded from his cheeks. A baleful smile crossed England's face, green eyes fixing sightlessly on the ceiling, "Your independent now; it's your duty to run into danger headlong… without me."

-

Alfred tightened the old grey cloak around himself as he pressed on, guiding the appaloosa forward. An elderly woman and a small boy were bundled together on the horse's back; the child weeping silently. Thousands of men and women moved with them, step after weary step.

Alfred turned to the pair on the horse, his trademark grin resting easily on his face, but his eyes showing the aching weariness that was slowly overtaking his body, "Aw, come on Johnny, don't cry. We're almost there! I'm sure of it!"

The boy looked at nation with blank, teary eyes. Suddenly the old woman began to sing gently in Cherokee, hugging the boy to her. The melody was sweet and sad, it made him want to smile, and it made him want to cry. Suddenly, the young man near them joined the old woman in her song. Soon all of the people around them were singing as well, their collective voice swelling to fill the empty land around them.

America couldn't see her, but he could feel Selu walking by his side.

Quiet words echoed around the music like a voice from a long forgotten dream:

'_As long as the corn grows, I shall remain. As long as the mountains stand, Uketna shall remain. As long as the forests flourish, the __Nûñnë'hï __shall remain. People and nations come and go, but the Great Spirit will always be part of the earth. It will be hard for many, many years, but things will come out as they should. You'll see.'_

America listened to the Cherokee sing, their voices dancing around the trees like Oonawieh Unggi. He closed his eyes and smiled, letting the music wash over him.

Slowly the American opened his eyes and stroked the horse's neck affectionately and began to sing softly:

"_Janet has kilted her green kirtle_

_A little aboon her knee,_

_And she has snooded her yellow hair,_

_A little aboon her bree,_

_And she is to her father's ha,_

_As fast as she can hie."_

-

_4,000 Cherokee died on the walk from their lands in the Southeastern US to present day Oklahoma_.

-

_**Please Review!!!**_

Cherokee Index:

Nunna daul Isunyi- The Trail Where They Cried

Uketna- Great horned serpent; reference previous chapter

Selu: Corn Woman

Oonawieh Unggi: spirit of the wind

PS: In my mind, Scotland looks and acts like Lord John Marbury from West Wing. Drunk, eccentric, and scruffy, yet disturbingly insightful at times.

Author's Notes: Sorry Jackson came out the way he did. He's actually one of my favorite presidents (for entertainment value); but he came out as a bit of a bastard in this fic. On a historical note, Jackson did have a very strong hatred of the British as he blamed them for the death of all his near kin (his mother and siblings all died during the Revolutionary War). Also, the quote I used from Jackson may not necessarily be his, its highly debated by historians, but it at least captures the essence of his actions. On another note, Jackson was known for his violent streak as he did actually shoot someone in the Whitehouse (I'm not sure, but I think he caned someone there too), so it is in character for him to want to hit a particularly insulting Alfred.

There will be an Epilogue, hopefully it will tie a few loose ends and lighten the mood from this chapter a bit. Once again, please review!


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